


I'm Chasing What I Want

by BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk



Series: Shots and Waiting: American Independency and Its Bloody Evolution [3]
Category: Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson - Friedman/Timbers, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hamilton/Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, Anachronistic, Any character not physically appearing in Hamilton musical show canon is described, Any other unusual interaction is in headcanon/according to the musicals, BBAJ cast gets Hamilton-style casting, Character(s) of Color, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eacker-Hamilton Duel (Mentioned), Eacker-Hamilton Duel takes place in 1801 as history states, Foreshadowing, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Dialogue Combined with Contemporary Dialogue, The odd colliding point between hip-hop rap and emo rock, Two US VPOTUSes knew a Van Ness, Using Someone Else's OC, Van Buren is a cinnamon roll, duels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk/pseuds/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk
Summary: After six years under the Silvesters, the elder Silvester and Democratic-Republican political figure John Peter Van Ness suggested that Van Buren's political leanings constrained him to complete his education with a Democratic-Republican attorney. Accepting this advice, he spent a final year of apprenticeship in the New York City office of John Van Ness's brother William P. Van Ness, a political lieutenant of Aaron Burr.----------Martin Van Buren and his memories of Hamiltons and Burrs.





	I'm Chasing What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> The OC in question is from this fic: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12623295/1/
> 
> Written with permission from the author (And to be crossposted into other sites too)
> 
> At this point, I might as well fill up the BBAJ part of the Archive.
> 
> Anyways, KEEP CALM AND READ ON!

"What would it be, sir?"

"Oh, um, these papers!"

Van Buren immediately placed his money on the desk.

Martin Van Buren was an aspiring lawyer, at this time finishing his studies. At the young age of nineteen, he was eager to serve and have his fun.

He was short in stature. His hair was a dark, buttery brown, highlighted with red-orange colors. His skin was a toasty brown, eyes dark and lined with excessive eyeliner. (It wasn't fully in fashion yet, but Van Buren was one of the small few getting into it.) His ears were pierced with star earings, and he wore red-orange cladding.

"You from around here?" Asked the shopkeep.

"Yes, I'm from Kinderhook, i-in New York--"

_**"What does that son of bitch think he is?!"** _

Van Buren stopped, and he and the shopkeep watched a man, about Van Buren's age, stomp into the store.

He immediately took some quils, placing them over Van Buren's hands over the papers.

"How much?" The man asked the shopkeep, venom still stuck in his voice.

The shopkeep gave the price and the man paid.

Just as the man was about to leave, Van Buren looked into his observations and called out, "Aren't you one of Hamilton's kids?"

Hand on the doorknob, the man glanced back, "Yeah? Got somethin' to say?"

"Uh, n-no, not really."

"Good." The man then hmphed and left.

"Is he okay?" Van Buren asked the shopkeep.

"Hm?"

"That guy-"

"Ah, Philip?" The clerk gestured Van Buren closer. "Haven't you heard about what Eacker said?"

"Of course I did," Replied Van Buren. "Honestly his phrasing could've been better...but I kinda see where he's getting at."

"I see," The Shopkeep relaxed a little. "The logistics of honor is confusing, honestly--like, to insult the person threatening like that in order to defend another's honor is kinda...dishonorable."

"I guess," Van Buren was invested with the topic. "Kinda like, a paradox? Yeah, a paradox, right?"

The shopkeep shrugged. "I feel like something's gonna come up soon. Anyways...have a good day, sir!"

Van Buren nods with a cheery smile. "You too!"

 

* * *

 

Just as Van Buren was about to partake in his favorite food, _twinkies_ , he was starled by loud knocking on the door.

Assuming it was Van Ness, he quickly got up, twinkie in hand and rushed to the door.

He took a bite as he opened the door.

"Mr. Van N-oh, pardon me!"

Van Buren quickly swallowed.

Before him was a woman, most likely his age, with dark, curly hair, part of it shaved off at the right side of her head. She wore a small trinket necklance and her dress was twilight pink. Her complexion was a pasty and dark brown color, her black eyes as beaming as the sun.

"I'm sorry," She spoke. "This is the office of William Van Ness, correct?"

Van Buren nodded. When his mouth was no longer full, "He'll be back after a few hours."

"I see," She courtsied while handing a hand out. "My name is Theodosia."

Daughter of Vice President Aaron Burr.

Van Buren admired Aaron Burr, and was taught by the Van Nesses to do so. He aspired to emulate Burr's charm, mastery at machine politics, genius lawyering skills, and capability to serve as a statesman for the United States.

Van Buren let go of the door and daintily took her hand, "Martin Van Buren." He leaned to give her hand a kiss but decided against it at the last second and shook on it. "Why are you looking for Mr. Van Ness?"

"My father is supposed to have met with him today. I assumed they would be here."

Letting go, "I didn't realize Mr. Van Ness had the privilege to speak with the Vice President!"

"...were you unaware that they were friends?" She asked.

"Oh! Well, sorta." He smiled innocently. "Your father is doing a marvelous job."

"You should tell him that." She said. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone say something like that since the Election."

"The Election of 1800, yeah..." Van Buren cringed a little. "Adams and Jefferson were toxic."

"The entire thing was toxic, honestly." She chuckled. "I see you're of Dutch descent?"

"Yeah. I was born and raised here though--an natural born American through and through!"

"Well, American as well am I."

They high-fived.

"Um, y-you should come in," Van Buren said. "I can serve you some twinkies; you seem hungry."

"I'm sorry, I'm really just here for my father...or Mr. Van Ness."

"Ah, well..." Van Buren rushed back inside, and came back with a fresh, steaming twinkie wrapped in baking paper. "Here's in case you get hungry looking for him."

"Thanks," Theodosia smiled as she took the delightful looking pastry cake. "I'll save this for my Father."

Just as he planned to bid Theodosia goodbye, his thoughts had changed.

"You look like you're in a rush,"

"Well, um, have you heard?"

"No,"

"Philip Hamilton and Richard Price--they've challenged George Eacker to duels!"

"Wait, I remember that the last law that was passed was making dueling illegal!"

"In New York. They said the duel's gonna be in Weehawken."

"...ooh, there?"

She nodded.

"Huh," Van Buren took a bite of his twinkie.

"I'll feel bad for the lawyers involved if any of the blows were lethal," He remarked, mouth full.

"To sacrifice one's life for honor is honestly absurd--even the Book of Faith says so too!" She paused then gasped.

Van Buren swallowed. "What?"

Theodosia pulls Van Buren out of the house and shuts the door closed.

"Wha-"

"You should help me look for them!"

Oh.

"Hmm, okay! Why not?"

 

* * *

 

It came to the both of them that the people they were looking for were drinking in the tavern.

"What's your opinion on Mr. Eacker, Mr. Van Ness?" Van Buren asked, drinking from a glass of water, as he was not of age to drink.

Van Ness had short, curly, raven hair, dark brown eyes and skin as dark as charcoal. He dressed in neon purple colors.

The two were distant from the Burrs, conversing.

"Well, this is a hard question to answer, Van Buren." Van Ness placed down his glass.

"As much as I dislike Mr. Hamilton," He chuckled--perhaps the alcohol, "It's a bit too far of Eacker to have called the man a scoundrel."

"I agree." Van Buren pouted.

Van Ness glanced at the aspiring lawyer. "What of Alexander Hamilton, Van Buren?"

"Hm?" He raised a brow.

"What do you think of him?"

"...y'know, you could be more specific."

"His policies?"

"Not really a fan."

"Execution of his former powers?"

"Which one?"

"Um, Secretary of Treasury?"

"Excellent."

"His personality?"

"Interesting." Van Buren's tone is raised in the way that would make him soud intrigued.

Then entered a brief silence.

"...you should consider giving more meaningful responses--"

"I'm trying!" Van Buren's accent came out, making him blush. "I-I'm not exactly the best _spreker--_ s-speaker, okay?!"

"Calm down," Van Ness placed a hand on Van Buren's shoulder.

The nineteen year old huffed, relaxed and drank down his water.

"Forgive us," Aaron Burr approached the both of them, "but I believe my daughter and I must leave early."

"Well, wouldn't want any of Jefferson's lackeys catch you here, right, Mr. Burr?" Went Van Ness.

He tsked. "Knock it off, man."

Theodosia snickered as she dragged her father and herself out of the bar.

Once the Burrs were gone, Van Buren asked, "Did he drink anything?"

Van Ness glanced at Burr's half-full glass. "Not enough."

They laughed.

 

* * *

 

The next time Van Buren spoke with Theodosia was when they found each other again in the market.

"Why do you look...down?" He asked her.

Van Buren had all he needed; he was just invested in their conversation about some random new fad.

"Papa's shook or something, like, something happened to him."

"Ah," He scratched his head. "Oh yeah! Did you hear that weird noise a few hours ago?"

"The nearby Church bells rang right after--yeah, all of New York seemed to have heard it." Theo picked up a tomato and studied it. "My father and I just visited the cemetary then."

"Oh?" 

"We were walking back home; when the sound came, he halted so suddenly, it's like he froze, or got shot! Took me a while to shake him out of it."

He nods.

Just as Theo was about to call the seller's attention, someone bumped into her.

"Gosh, I-I'm sorry!" The stranger was male, with a youthful, vibrant, and sultry voice. It carried the twang a typical Southerner would have.

"It's nothing fret about, really," Theodosia responded.

Van Buren quickly picked up the items (or item, rather) that fell out of Theo's basket. As he got up, he got a proper look on the guy.

He was pretty short, about Van Buren's height, come to think of it. His hair was jet black, the tips platinum blonde, as if dipped in fondue. His skin was pale white with a golden tinge, eyes a fake, plastic blue color. He dressed in pale yet bright, sunny, yellow colors.

"I-I have to apologize, really--no way for a gentleman to act anyway, _ha ha_..." He smiled awkwardly.

Theo immediately got the dropped product from Van Buren and quickly placed it back into the basket. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, sir."

Face flushed red, "Um, J-Joseph. I'm Joseph Alston."

"Theodosia Burr." She took his hand. Alston kissed her hand in response. Light, gentle...shaky?

Straightening up again, "I-I should be on my way!"

Alston then finger gunned the hell out.

The two who remained snickered.

Nudging Theodosia gently, "I think he likes you!"

She tenses up a little. "That's pretty obvious,"

Eyebrows in a frenzy, "You like him too, don't you?"

She merely laughed back at him. Van Buren had difficulty locating the true meaning of this response.

 

* * *

 

_"Dead?"_

"What did you think the Church bells ringing were for?" The shopkeep sighed. "Honestly wished I could've talked him out of there."

They first hear from the shopkeep at the store that sold quills and papers. Theodosia needed to buy more supplies for her lessons.

"I didn't think Father wouldn't have made it in time," Theodosia said, giving her payment.

"I heard he likes to wait," Said the shopkeep.

"I honestly think this is Hamilton's fault," Van Buren said.

"Oh?" Exclaimed the other two.

"Well, if there's anyone most unwiling to listen your Dad, it's probably him."

"That is true." Replied Theodosia. "I just...this is Mr--Alexander Hamilton's son! What kind of good father pushes their own son into such an activity?"

"I've heard word of someone worse than what you've described." Said the shopkeep. "I hear he's from Tennessee killing Indians, Brits, and--okay, honestly anyone."

"Yikes," Uttered Theo.

"Then turns out the guy's actually kinda cool." They all laughed at this.

"It's still a shame though," Spoke the shopkeep. "Kid's still nineteen--all good things begin at nineteen, not end there."

"I'm nineteen," Said Van Buren and Theodosia simultaneously.

"Huh, a loss to your number."

Theodosia looked down. Van Buren shrugged innocently.

"Have you ever met him, Van Buren?" Theodosia asked, taking her purchase and began walking out.

He followed, "You mean Philip?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, the first time I met him was in this store." They exited the said store.

"Oh."

"Mmhmm. He was pissed, now that I remember it." He paused. "You?"

"I remember when our fathers were still friends." She reminisced. "Somehow, Philip and I got to talk a lot. He's a very artistic person--he had this thing for aesthetic with reason."

"God, now I wish I got to know him better." Van Buren sighed. "I-I think I should be on my way."

"Me too," Theodosia replied.

They began to walk on their seperate paths.

"Hey!"

"Yeah?!"

"Tell me when you meet Alston again!"


End file.
